


Not on my watch

by ComfortingAngel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After care, Aziraphale is in charge, Bullying, Crowley is a naughty boy, Discipline, Dubious Consent, Fluff, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Over the Knee, Platonic BDSM, cruelty to a child, mild spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-02-01 05:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortingAngel/pseuds/ComfortingAngel
Summary: Crowley witnesses the violent bullying of a small boy who reminds him of Warlock, and he loses his temper with the bully concerned, despite being told to stay out of it. Aziraphale sees to Crowley's discipline.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note there is a brief discussion/debate between Aziraphale and Crowley on the potential spanking of a child where two different views are aired, but no child is treated that way in this fic, nor is it endorsed. The spanking is between two 6,000 year olds who are figuring stuff out.

'Angel, look! That little boy looks just like our Warlock.'

'So he does!' Aziraphale beamed. He and Crowley had found an unoccupied bench in Regent's Park for a change, with a view of a playing area for children. A small boy of around five year old with dark brown hair was skipping around the wood-chip enclosure and taking on the sort of slides and climbing frames that were probably for slightly older children.

'So very like him,' said the angel. 'Back when he was still just a little scamp. I wonder what he’s up to now.'

'Secondary school,' sneered Crowley. 'Being normal. Being rude, like I taught him. Getting detention. No Hell hounds, though.' 

'Oh you checked in on him! Oh Crowley, that’s…'

'Careful. Do not say _nice_.' They shared a wry smile and watched the rambunctious child as he clumsily made his way over a large swaying rope bridge. 

'Very spirited isn't he...' said Aziraphale, but stopped in horror as he watched the little boy get roughly shoved through the ropes and off the bridge, to land unceremoniously on the wood chippings below. A bigger boy, perhaps of around 10, and sporting a mop of blond hair, was laughing his head off.

Crowley screwed up his face in disgust. 'Little shit!' he exclaimed. He watched the smaller kid rub his knees and try not to cry, before glaring at his assailant. He got up and tried again to cross the bridge.

Again, he was pushed off, this time so roughly he flipped in midair and landed badly. 

‘Gracious!’ exclaimed Aziraphale, as Crowley sat up straight. 

The boy's mother had seen and run over to comfort her little one, who at least did not appear to have any broken bones. The older boy made a swift exit to hide underneath a large wooden structure beneath the large slide. It was where young teens often smoked cigarettes and was the 'cool' part of the playground, despite the fact it was essentially a wooden Wendy house. He poked his head out to snigger at the little boy who was crying hard, his mum carrying him away. 

Crowley fumed. ‘Little bugger! 6,000 years and humans still don’t know how to stop kids from bullying.’ 

‘That’s a very naughty child,' said Aziraphale with distinct disapproval. 'I hope his parents saw that. He needs a jolly good smacked bottom.’

Crowley pulled a face. ‘You do know what century it is, right? Anyway, there's no way that kid has parents watching out for him.'

‘Well, he needs to be disciplined, and like I say, if I were human, I’d put him over my...’

‘Aziraphale, kids don't listen, they imitate. I’m not saying he should go unpunished but you have to wonder where he learned that from.’

The angel frowned thoughtfully. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Poor soul. Well, it’s not up to us. It’s for the humans to figure out.’

‘Sure,’ said Crowley. ‘We shouldn’t intervene.’

‘No we most certainly should not, so don’t even think about it.’

‘I wasn’t!’

Aziraphale gave him a look, and Crowley sulked, slouching into a deeper, more obstinate sort of slouch. 

A good 10 minutes later, the little boy had been comforted, and on seeing the coast was clear, was once again scrambling up the ramp to the bridge.

'There - he'll do it this time,' said Aziraphale sweetly.

'But no interference, angel,' Crowley intoned dramatically. 

'I'm just sending vibes, that's all. Whether he picks up on them is his business.'

Crowley shook his head. Bloody _holier than thou_ angel. 

They watched with some amusement as the kid, that so looked like the one they'd raised for so many years, successfully crossed the rope bridge and stood victorious on the other side, with a tremendous grin. 

Crowley allowed himself to smile at the sight. _Good._

But there was a sudden commotion. The older boy appeared next to him again, lifted him up, and effortlessly dropped him over the side, finding it all hilarious. 'This is my bridge!' he boomed theatrically, as if he were the troll in Billy Goats Gruff.   


'Oi!' shouted the mother, and again, the bully disappeared into his hidey-hole. The mother was too distracted by her son's distress to pursue the older boy.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley were instinctively on their feet, the angel finding it very hard to resist healing the little boy's cuts, bumps and grazes, but there was no way to discreetly do it, so he wrung his hands instead.  


But Crowley was marching towards the large slide.

‘Crowley! Don’t! You mustn’t!’ called Aziraphale.

‘Or what?’ spat the demon over his shoulder, thoroughly outraged. ‘You’ll give me a  _ jolly good smacked bottom _ ?’ It was an unkind, mocking sneer of a remark, that Aziraphale hadn't seen from his demon in a very long time. He knew it was only because he was so upset, but it frustrated him intensely. 

‘I might!’ he hissed, unsure if Crowley heard him. 

The angel watched, panicking. He knew he ought to stop Crowley. But how, when he was in such a mood? He thought about it his threat. The image of him taking Crowley over his knees and administering a spanking felt both justified and considerably satisfying. His nostrils flared as he fumed with anger at the demon’s reckless behaviour. He looked about, then dashed over to the other side of the playing area to see what was happening.

The blond boy was lurking, kicking a small trash bag around like a football, and watching remnants of food fall out.  There then appeared next to him a taller boy of around the same age, with flaming red hair and dark glasses. Aziraphale gasped. Crowley had shifted into a child shape. The blond boy jolted with surprise having not seen this red haired boy arrive, and then was yanked out of view underneath the slide. Aziraphale scurried a little closer to maintain a line of sight. 

Crowley pushed the kid against a wooden wall. ‘I see you like torturing runts,’ he said, pointing in the direction of the small boy and his mother. ‘He’s a good little runt to kick around!’

‘Yeah, he is,’ said the blond boy with a smirk, no doubt assuming he was making a friend. 

‘Problem with the game of torturing runts,’ said Crowley becoming quite sinister and rounding on the kid. ‘Is although there’s always someone smaller than you, there’s always someone bigger than you. Which means sooner or later, you’re the runt.’

Crowley grabbed the boy, lifting him clean off the ground, and the blond squealed.

‘That’s it!’ said Crowley. ‘Squeal like a little runt, because it’s your turn!’

He held him up with one hand and knocked him in the stomach with his fist, a soft punch that was nowhere near winding the child, but threatened to in due course. Even so the  boy started to cry, and Crowley was aware of a pattering sound on the wood chippings. He looked down to see a puddle forming at the kid's feet, his trousers wet. Crowley quickly put him back down and the boy cowered away, ready to run.

Crowley was taken aback. The kid was clearly terrified of him, even though Crowley had deliberately made himself a child of only a few centimetres taller. He kept his nerve, determined to drive his point home.

‘What goes around comes around,’ he hissed, pointing a finger in the kid's face. The boy ran for it, out of the play area and across the park. 

Crowley slipped out from underneath the slide and morphed back into his adult human-shaped self. His heart was racing. Had he gone too far? He frightened the kid. But surely he needed a dose of his own medicine? He was sure that was fair, but he had a very bad taste in his mouth.

Lost in his thoughts as he walked away from the play area, he didn’t see that Aziraphale was waiting for him, still and stony, hands held in front of him, eyes a devastating icy blue. 

Until he did see.  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

‘I had to get through to him,’ said Crowley quickly. 

‘I saw what you did,’ said Aziraphale evenly. 

Crowley felt himself flush with shame. He had lost control. ‘I had to teach him a lesson, angel,’ he protested. 

‘No you didn’t. It wasn’t your place.’

Crowley wiggled and scowled.

‘Crowley,’ said Aziraphale sternly. ‘I would like you to freeze time for a moment, please.’ He said it so politely, but Crowley knew it was an imperative, not some nice request. He also knew he was in big trouble with the angel. He frowned at his feet for a moment before surrendering to the inevitable, and snapped his fingers.

Reality froze around them. The whole park, including families and animals, became a snapshot. 

‘Come here,’ said Aziraphale, still calm, but still in a tone that no one would dare argue with. He was very much the Principality Aziraphale now. He returned to stand by the bench and waited for his demon.

Crowley traipsed over reluctantly. He was going to get an earful - he knew it. Aziraphale rarely became stern with him or pulled rank as an angel, but there had been a couple of occasions where he was really given a rocket that had left Crowley feeling awful. He braced himself as he approached Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale, however, had a plan. As soon as Crowley was close enough, he caught the demon by the wrist, and sitting down on the bench yanked the spindly Crowley over his lap.

‘Angel! Don’t be ridiculous!’ cried Crowley, long legs kicking out. 

‘You know how I feel about naughty boys, Crowley. And you just were a  _ very _ naughty boy.’

‘I’ll restart time! You won’t get away with -.’

A stinging smack landed on his bottom and he gasped. 

‘You will do nothing of the kind,’ said the angel, bringing his hand down again. He tugged at Crowley’s belt. ‘This is all coming down.’

‘Wha..!’ Crowley began, but a miracle immediately unbuckled, unfastened and pulled the jeans and underpants all the way down to his knees, framing a diminutive but well-formed lily-white bottom and pale sinewy thighs.

The demon squirmed on Aziraphale’s lap. 

‘You know better than to interfere like that!’ scolded Aziraphale, landing a flurry of swats on the white cheeks. They quickly turned baby pink. ‘That wasn’t angelic, or demonic. That was basely human.’ _Smack smack smack._

‘Ow! Aziraphale, please!’ cried Crowley. It was really stinging… and the spanking was too.

‘Humans have their own learning curve. You do not get to humiliate a human child. That was impulsive and cruel. You bad,  _ bad _ demon.’

The angel’s hand came down in a relentless volley of hard smacks, though he barely raised his voice.  ‘I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I let you get away with that, now would I?’ he chided.  


Crowley’s bottom had gone from pink to red, and was littered with hand prints. Satisfying indeed, thought Aziraphale. He gave him one last swat for good measure, before resting his hand on the sore, heated buttocks, as if to signal the spanking was over.

Crowley was gasping and whimpering, and wriggling about as if he was still getting his bottom smacked. 

‘I know it hurts Crowley, but I want you to stay still and think about what I’ve said.’

Crowley sniffed, trying to obey despite the raging throb in his posterior. ‘I only meant to scare him...’ he whined.

‘Well you did that, didn’t you.’

‘I didn’t think he would get so scared so quickly.’

‘Yes, well you may have presented as a boy of his age but no doubt you were radiating demonic energy, which he surely picked up on.’

Crowley stilled. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

‘You didn’t think at all, Crowley!’ scolded Aziraphale sternly. ‘You said yourself, you don’t know what the child is going through. Maybe my approach is old fashioned, and maybe yours is radical enough to make a difference, but it’s a mute point because it’s not for us to get involved. The humans have to figure this out.’

‘I know,’ said Crowley, his voice sounded strained. His body was starting to surrender, and his arms and legs were going limp. 

‘Well then,’ said Aziraphale softly. ‘You know what you did. Let’s get you back up the right way.’ 

Crowley winced in pain as his clothing snapped back into its rightful position, and then again as Aziraphale guided him to sitting on the unforgiving wooden panels of the bench. 

Crowley looked at him, beseechingly. ‘I’m sorry. I just saw red. I just wanted it to stop. That little kid was so like…’

‘...our little Warlock… yes I know. But we’re not godfathers now, my dear.’

Crowley shifted, intensely uncomfortable.

‘I punished you, Crowley, because I want you to remember not to rush in like that. We’ve already been accused of _going native_. We must maintain a professional distance - and I’m relying on you to do the same for me. We have to take care of each other. We have to remember we are not human and have roles to play, _from the sidelines_.’

Crowley grimaced, trying to sit but not sit at the same time. ‘You didn’t have to hit me.’

‘Oh I rather think I did,’ said Aziraphale. ‘Got you to listen, didn’t it?’

Crowley pouted. He supposed it brought an odd clarity to know he would not get away with doing something like that. And it was hardly a pool of boiling sulphur or the haphazard brutality of Hell. He wiggled again.

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Crowley,’ said the angel, albeit with considerable warmth and amusement. ‘Come here, my dear. Lean over and rest on your head on my lap until it feels a little better.’

Crowley scowled his hardest scowl at the absolute indignity, but being too uncomfortable to resist taking the pressure off his bottom, and not wanting to disrespect his angel, he curled up in the fetal position with his head on Aziraphale’s warm thighs without a word. 

‘Tut tut,’ said Aziraphale sweetly, stroking his hair. ‘My dear boy.’ The angel leaned down and kissed Crowley on the crown of his head. ‘I’m not sure how humans should deal with their children, but I think I do know how to deal with my demon.’

‘Hmph,’ said Crowley. But he was enjoying being petted, and found himself cuddling up to the warmth of his angel. ‘Are you angry?’

‘No,’ said Aziraphale. ‘I was, because your actions were deeply concerning and inappropriate, but I feel confident that I have corrected you sufficiently.’ 

Crowley rolled his eyes at the unnecessary amount of words. 

‘You are forgiven, Crowley.’

Crowley did his best to control his bottom lip, which for some reason, kept trying to wobble.

‘And I suppose,’ continued the angel. ‘That boy will think twice before attacking another child. I’ll look in on him later. Perhaps push a good comic book his way.’

Crowley turned his head to look up at Aziraphale. ‘Oh but we’re not going to interfere?’ he teased sarcastically. ‘That would be basely human.’

Aziraphale tapped the demon on the bottom. ‘Don’t be naughty, Crowley,’ he warned, the blue eyes twinkled with what Crowley considered to be a very pleasing amount of defiance and mischief. ‘Nudging and influencing is not the same as grabbing and threatening.’ Another little tap on the bottom, and Crowley grumbled. 

The angel chuckled. His demon cuddled up closer, and all but nuzzled Aziraphale’s thigh. 

A peaceful few minutes transpired, during which the sting in Crowley’s bottom became an almost reassuring ache. He sighed contentedly. ‘Do you want me to restart time or something?’ he asked, aware that they shouldn’t really be hosting a time bubble for too long.

‘Not yet, my dear,’ said Aziraphale wistfully, still stroking the fiery red locks. ‘Just a little bit longer.’ He took a deep breath, enjoying the sun on his face and a demon in his lap.  


Crowley curled up until he was almost a ball, an angular ball of forgiven demon. They both sensed when it was time to return reality back on, and did so whilst appearing suitably aloof (definitely not touching or cooing at each other). They returned to the bookshop, enjoyed a good bottle of red, and the mildly subdued demon curled back up on Aziraphale’s lap as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and submissively allowed himself to be petted. 

‘There, there,’ said Aziraphale. ‘That’s better. There’s a good boy.’

Crowley opened his eyes to glare daggers at the angel, but Aziraphale was sporting a sly smirk.

‘Bastard,’ grumbled Crowley, before drifting off to sleep with Aziraphale’s fingertips still stroking his hair. 


End file.
